Into Shouts and Screams
by Saki-chan2
Summary: The sequel to The Footsteps are Fading. Questioning God, fate, and death. A little deep for Digimon, but it was fun. Complete.
1. Chapter One

**…Into Shouts and Screams**

Chapter One 

**(Sequel to "The Footsteps are Fading")**

"Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, against the man who stands next to me." 

- Zechariah 13:7

So this is what persistence felt like. Victorious…defeating your opponent with your bare hands. This is what it felt like. 

Fragments of glass winked as they fell to the floor, abandoning the door. 

Triumphant…Conquering… 

Winning.

The glass splashed at his feet, where the pieces resumed their twinkling. 

This is what he had always felt, yet there had been a time far back where he could remember a soft voice and a pale woman whispering to his ear, only his ear, to follow her, to follow her directions. Perhaps he hadn't quite won. 

His heart burned with her memories. His lips yearned for her warmth, though he couldn't remember ever kissing her before. However, he could recall how soft her mouth had been when it had touched his cheek…and he could also recall what a headache he had woken up with the next morning. He was living two lives now; one was his own, and the other was her memories. There was a burning urge to become something better than this with the latter life, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Instead of searching for it's want, whenever that feeling engulfed his senses, violence would blur his reason. 

He stared apathetically at the hole in the glass door, at his bleeding hand, then at the customer. He could just register that they were apologizing profusely for having angered him so, and that the man was slowly backing away towards the door. It wouldn't affect his business; people were coming from all over to make it to the digital world to try their hand at finding god. The cavern had naturally been searched thousands of times from wood splinter to rock shard, but god was not there. Relief was so abundant in Taichi that it frightened him. Sometimes, lying in bed, he felt like those memories were suffocating his real self; that while he slept they would ferment other memories and that together they would gradually overtake him. That thought alone was uncanny enough to persuade him to believe that he had honestly lost his mind. Now, with thick entrails of blood oozing down his arm, he could trust that notion. Vividly, he saw himself in the asylum in less than a week. These memories were driving him insane.  

"Well, I suppose I'll be going now," the man was stuttering, but nothing mattered anymore to Taichi. His arm's pain nerves must've been all severed, because no "hurt" lights were flashing in his mind. His vision was indistinct, tinged with a red on the borders and golden eyes in the center. He could almost see them blinking. Light blonde strands of hair were slithering down into his eyesight…

"Tai!" A familiar hand clamped onto his shoulder and tried to spin him around, but he was suddenly restraining aggressively and breaking free from its grip. There were words flaming in his head that were nebulous and faded, yet they had a power beyond his control. He slammed up against the glass door, lengthening the spider web cracks and loosening more shards. He gripped his head tightly, trying to get a hold onto those words. They resembled the memories, except more passionately like they had to come to pass right_ now_. Urgently, impatiently they screamed at him, but he couldn't recognize their shape…

"TAI!" 

The hand shook him brutally now, from the shoulders…from the shoulders…NO why did he remember those lines? Couldn't memory have mercy on him just this once?

Then the red dispersed from his eyes, his fists relaxed, and his mind let go from those thoughts that had clouded it. He looked around and could actually see clearly his office and Yamato standing in it. Then feeling returned and Yamato's hands became known to his mind, and…Dry ice swarmed beneath his skin and dived into his veins where his right arm was, wreaking havoc upon his senses there. A scream caught in his throat, only half-way constructed by his larynx, and tears of pure pain glistened in the corners of his eyes. Chunks of glass were rooted in his arm, blood was pouring from every scratch on that limb, and finally the nerves were re-routed to the brain. Now he could feel the pain, though through the years he had begun to be inured to drudgery and distress. He could feel himself coming back now.

Yet Yamato saw something different. Here in this room a presence was beginning to stir beneath Taichi's feet, disheveling his spirit, changing his character. His eyes…for a second the brown dimmed into a gold and the light on his hair grew bolder, illuminating blonde that had never been there before. He was gasping…clinging onto his shirt…gasping…How febrile his touch was. The sweat…dripping from his brow. 

Tai…wake up, this isn't your dream anymore, you can wake up now. Please, if not for yourself, then for someone you hold dear. You must have someone like that; someone whom you'd be willing to live for. Still you must fight. Fight for that someone. Fight for the freedom that hangs in the billowing sails. Fight for…

"Tai! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Fright. His ears could detect fright in the man's voice. Were these really his ears anymore. Touching softly the man's shirt…fingerprints couldn't be correct in this instance, for right now he could feel the memories growing, captivating. No, if he lost to them now…

His body was shoved to the floor violently, falling to rest upon the loose glass. 

_Itai…_

Yamato's face could no longer be distinguished from the surrounding pixels. His body felt faint, his heart was beating slower it seemed, but his mind just couldn't rid itself of those random burning words…

_Jitsuyooteki…sambi…datsurakusei…shikei…zankoku…shinda…rooa…shinai na…Tasukete kudasai…kudasai…zutto…kami ga…senshi-suru minikui._

Black-ness. 

Greeting me in this room…the blackness…the lights flicker on…they can't see what those lights do to me. Hello…how are you doing…no answer…they can't see what…the blackness…outside the door…they say I'll be out in a few days…weird how he doesn't speak…weird how his eyes are so light…have they always been that way?

The stars are a pale yellow in the precious moments before dawn, powered by a soft alacrity in the morning's light. They will disperse, eaten by the spider that sits in the night sky, unable to move for they are caught in the cosmos' web, as we all are during some point in our life. They'll be coruscate for a second longer, then lay down to recover from a night's work of shining, for tomorrow brings another violet sky. 

We as humans are not permitted to recover from any experience we encounter, but are forced to relive a certain time again and again in our minds, as punishment for eating that damn apple, no doubt. So we relive and we recall, we rehearse and we regret, without the obvious knowledge that we're living some sort of circling, repeating life. Are our mental capabilities really that much higher then those two hundred years ago? Certainly not; we're just more informed. Being informed - so this is what evolution of the mind needs, is it not? They had no lack of creativity, our ancestors that is. Why, they had many theories! Many different, creative ways to torture people, to build tributes to themselves, dress, and so on. And we esteem creativity? It is rather primitive and base, yet I can see why it awes us - we ruin it. In the blossoming times of adolescence we convert the subjects to books, saying that they hold wise and helpful knowledge. So they do, so they do, however it was created on the basis of someone's creativity, and our reading of it renders our own to dust, mere sediments that linger on the wind naught for a second. So books are a sin to originality, and therefore, if the author be a christian, they should be abhored from publishing such a hinderance to a child's fresh mind. I believe books should be kept away from children until they're later years, when they are not so much like wet clay waiting to be molded. And yet, books pass down an accumalative knowledge to the reader, so that, not only do they have their own thoughts, but the beliefs of another printed onto their souls. The two are one now as a greater knowledge merges with an eager disciple. So the question to be answered is: "Is it better to stay true to ourselves or to sacrifice our individuality in order to respect and perserve the knowledge of our ancestors?" Ah, the cycle never ceases to amaze and daunt us. 

And hold, is it not the twinkling twilight that lays my head to sleep whilst for another man it begins his day? Do the peeping eye beams of the sun over the horizon bring hope to one and dread to another? Our outlook on life is different from our neighbor's, but the problem arises when we read some thought of that same neighbor's. They will say to me, "why for your pet did you choose a dog, and why that certain breed?" when it really isn't weighty upon any soul except mine and my dog's, yet their words will stay, stay in my mind like gum in a stomach, refusing to be digested. The next day I will ask their inquiry to myself and wonder for an answer, but is this not a valuable insight provided for us by a man dear to ourselves? Here inlies the example of how communication muddles our true selves. Leave a child to his or her thoughts for an hour, away from the television, away from a sibling, and await the wonders that will arise from it. We need time alone. It is a medicine to the soul, but like all medicine it should be taken in reasonable amounts. Too little fades us, too much bolds us. With too much we see ourselves for too long, all of our imperfections and perfections, our misconceptions and wisdom, and we will use our confidence as a barrier or a weapon against the people we meet along life's road. However, confidence is rather fickle but necessary. It is as absorbant as a sieve at times, and dull as a knife at others. 

I feel rather ignorant in all these matters. I have not fully researched the subjects, yet I have formed opinions on them already? Ah, the mind is so complete and smooth. In my blind eyes, I see the mind as a sphere, boiling inside with lightening and flowers, heaven and hell. Lately though, I have tried imagining the mind as the sihoulette of a human. It is covered with transparent skin, and in it you can find all the things I have listed above. Skin cells are our mind. Skeletal, smooth, and cardiac muscles are our mind. They function, communicate with eachother seguely; so well, that we cannot pinpoint when and where any transgressions take place. They speak with each other, feel each other, and us as humans try to reinact that play by speaking with and feeling other humans. The material world is the perception of the spiritual world, or so I'm told. Sugoi. So what of the linguistic world? What do we percieve in ourselves by languages? How did a "word" come to have a "meaning"? It's so amazing to me that these "words" can work jointly together to portray my meaning to you, my friend. Yet…in some way words are sadly inaccurate, sadly without feeling. I must discover the language of the mind. Surely IT does not speak in Japanese or English, Czech or Swahili. Surely IT represents the soul of everthing; what some call God, what some call Brahmin. That primitive language…I desperately hope it was not overwritten with our learned one. 

"Izzy?"

His fuzzy eyes came into focus slowly, almost unwillingly, and he turned them on Jou. He refrained from speaking (he just really wasn't in the mood for communication with people of lesser intelligence), so he blandly stared at Jou, silently willingly him to speak. Jou (who isn't exactly "of lesser intelligence") returned the stare, insulted at Koushiro's sudden attitude flaw. So they stared and stared, stared some more, and stared until finally the author got bored of their happenings and decided to speak of the scenery instead, which always provides a good topic while writing because such beautiful and contradicting things can be said of it. 

Late at night – no, in the dead of the night – not many people can be found roaming through the digital world. It's heaven there at night, if heaven is such a great place after all. Cities are in ruins that sit pacifly by riverbanks, ascended to from those holy and yet cursed Ghats that buddhists yearn to die upon. In the hills, there are random mansions set like jewels, long dead harbors of evil digimon masters and their slaves. Their twisting hallways and clinking gallows freeze the night sky in a close proximity, screeching to the stars above, threatening all life that so much as draws in oxygen from that area. The trees hold dead silent confrerences, spying on the mansions, peering at the abandoned cities. The grass curls around late-night dew, wanting at a dire cost to squeeze it, drink it in and live off of it. Here, in the dead of the night, the stars are bright, but are not bright enough to drown out the intense beauty of what sits at your feet. The ocean does not merely lap at the beach - it eats it grain by grain. Caverns are the harbingers of not flapping wings, but flapping jaws, saliva, death. However, in all this sinister life, there was something that beckoned, something that could be more beautiful than eternal sleep at last. Here, surely here, there was god. The stars were not bright compared to him. The trees could not whisper quietly enough, the mansions were not foreboding enough, the cities not desolute enough – no, they were nothing in comparison to this almighty force. God was surely the scenery there. Koushiro could feel the need to destroy it all, burn it, mangle it, whatever it, building up inside. Taichi had told them about the conversation in the cavern, the one that had existed between Kami and Akuma. To Koushiro, it had been no big surprise. He had always suspected that humans weren't seeing the complete truth about god. God was nothing now. Koushiro had intelligence; what more did he need? He didn't need that ubiquidous governing force interfering any longer. No. God was no longer needed. 

"Jou. Will you join with me on this? To save Tai, to save mankind from this illusion. It would be a noble cause. You must say yes."

"Yes to…what?"

Hesitation. Bad sign in any event. 

"Kami. We must destroy him."

"You're talking about thousands of years of divine belief down the drain, Izzy. Is that really healthy for the ignorant masses?"

"Who are the ignorant masses? I am part of that mass, yet I am not ignorant. Are you ignorant?"

Jou shook his head slowly.

"Well then, how many ignorant people can there be in a mass? I'll tell you…No, just listen to this: Kami is useless. How does he work? What good does he do? He sits alone. Alone. Always alone. We -"

"If he does nothing but sit alone, what harm is he doing?"

"None, I suppose. But he generates a feeling that I can't deny. Jou, I'm not a holy man. Being told that Kami is actually flesh and blood isn't surprising, but I sure as hell can't accept that. He fooled people; insulted humans. He punishes us for our own decisions! Our own! What right does he have? My mental contemplation should not be read by anyone, and yet there he sits, deciding whether I'm a good boy or a bad boy, and whether I'll get to meet Saint Nick when I kick the bucket. What justice do you see in that?"

"Must we kill him?"

"How else will he be stopped?"

"Maybe if we reason with him…"

"Jou! Reason with him?" Koushiro snorted. "We'd go straight to hell for that one, no doubt. Right there on the spot – baam! – bye bye and say hello to Akuma for me!"

Koushiro scouted closer to the hesitant Jou, bringing his head in, being a conspiracy theorist.

"See that patch of trees right over there?" 

Jou nodded.

"That's where he's hiding."

No emotion showed on Jou's face, but he was rather angry with Koushiro, who was supposed to be a genius. Did he not think of the consequences? What would killing the universe's governing force bring about? Would the universe spiral into Chaos, reverse the Big Bang, and bang! no one is left alive? Throughout human history we've believed in something, be it elements or Norse mythology, and, if we had nothing left to believe in, what would happen? He studied Koushiro's greedy eyes for a moment and then voiced this thought. Koushiro laughed.

"What do you mean 'have nothing left to believe in'? We'd have ourselves and our abilities! Isn't that enough for you? Can't you believe in Man just for once? Look at all the great things we've done!"

"I hardly think plotting to kill Kami is a great thing. Besides, what about our depleting the ozone layer and destroying rain forests, ultimately wiping out species we know nothing about, covering the earth in concrete and steel, lacing it through and through with wires, tunnels, pipes, and god knows what else. I fail to see how all that is good. And…what have we as humans accomplished that isn't aimed towards our own profit? All of these so called "great" actions that you speak of are selfishly based, aren't they? Name one thing, just one thing, that man has done that profited something other than himself, and I'll consider joining you."

"You will?"

"I am completely confident that you won't be able to think of an event in all of history that is as I have described."

"How long are you willing to give me to come up with an answer."

"I'm hoping that you'll soon see your fault and decide not to kill Kami on your own logic, but take as long as you want for an answer."

Koushiro turned back to the stars, stared at the group of trees, gazed at the crescent moon perched upon the night sky like a sleeping dove, and thought. Thought long and hard…

Transformation – something that he had watched in Beast Wars as a child, something that could happen to machines, or an idea. Not him. Who gazed back at him from this mirrior he did not know, but she was beautiful. Golden eyes, wow, those seemed so familiar for some reason. Thin, light blonde hair. It twirled around his finger delicately, as if he were in this picture. Yeah, that was it. His fingers touched her face, felt how soft her cheek was, the only problem was…this was him. Mirrors don't lie. Uso…

His hand was healed. No, in this body that had never even happened. In this body…too unreal. 

Memories. Memories that seeped pain out of their wormholes, memories stuffed with envy and frustration. _I can't be that_, rang in his head every other thought, obscuring any rational notion. Here, in that mirror, he could see how those memories had finally caught up to him. She had lived inside of him, quiet and discreet, prudent and scintilla. Then she had grown bolder, overtaken his mind halfway. Now…Revenge was an overbearing power upon his mind. This was important to her, obviously. Revenge upon what?

"Do you know the story of the devil, Izzy?"

Koushiro looked up, startled.

"Wasn't he an angel?"

"Yeah, made to serve god himself. There's a verse…if I can remember it correctly: 'How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! / How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low! / You said in your heart, "I will ascend to heaven; above the stars of God I will set my throne on high; I will sit on the mount of assembly in the far north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds , I will make myself like the Most High." But you are brought down to Sheol, to the depths of the Pit." It goes on longer, but I can't remember the rest. Then, in Revelation, it speaks of the devil's thousand year punishment, and how, when the sentence was completed, he rose up against the saints and the 'beloved city' with an army with numbers 'like the sand of the sea'. But supposedly God shot fire down upon him and sent him to his fate in a pit of fire and brimstone."

"In those verses," Koushiro mused aloud, "the first ones you spoke of, it sounds as if God is regretting Satan's departure. Do you think he was pained at Satan's betrayal?"

"Well, he _was _God's own angel."

"Then…how could he have gone bad? There was no Satan to tempt him, was there? And if he had God's own blessing, why was he turned out from heaven?"

"The bible says that Satan led a rebellion against God when he became too full of pride. Pride isn't an original temptation of the devil, is it?"

Despite of the serious conversation, Koushiro couldn't help but let out a laugh. 

"I suppose it would be a bad thing in too large a quantity. It reminds me of a certain leader…"

Jou smiled. There was a certain resemblance at times between Taichi and the bible's portrayal of Satan. How amusing. Yet…what had Yamato called to say last night? How creepy and light Taichi's eyes were, right? What did that have anything to do with…

"Izzy? Did you ever see that woman?"

"Eh? Which one?"

"The one that…Davis, Kari, Sora, and Tai saw."

"No, I don't…wait." Straining back into fuzzy memories, he could just make out a dolphin, a crane moving overhead, a…light haired woman. "Yeah, I did, just for a second, though."

"Did you see her eyes?"

"No, only her hair. It was a blinding blonde, on my life it was light. I remember saying to myself that it couldn't be T.K. because of the color. Why?"

"Tai…"

They were silent after that, knowing that something was different with Taichi, but not wanting to admit it. Surely that woman…no, no, she couldn't have really been the devil, because the devil was a man. But, whilst staring up at the golden stars, there was an ominous feeling of defeat from the mere thought of Taichi. Jou couldn't exactly put his feeling into words, but what he felt told him that Taichi was no longer alive. 

"That women must've been Babylon herself reincarnated," he whispered to the quiet Koushiro, but there was no response. 

Saturday afternoon, no work, no responsibilities for the moment, just a Saturday afternoon. Ah, the complete bliss of sleeping in and not being bothered by it! Daisuke was _so_ glad that he wasn't married. Lazing around in the most comfortable thrift store clothes ever, watching soccer matches on television all day – this was the life. Ah, second rate appartment, but who cared? It was only himself living here. Hadn't vacuumed in months – did he even own a vacuum? He shrugged and played with the remote some more. Living off of ramen noodles and plain rice – one could get by. Ah…yep…

The musical tone of his doorbell interrupted any later happy bachelor thoughts, forcing a frown onto his face. For god's sake! Saturday afternoon, people! Does that not click to mean: "stay in your houses and don't bother anyone"? Sighing, he left the couch and shuffled to the door. Hm, hadn't shaved yet. Wonder who it could be. Hope it's not Hikari; don't really want her to see me all trashy like this. But he also shrugged at this, because, hey, he's got no shame.

Turn doorknob, open door a crack. Oh hey Kari! What are you doing here…so unexpected like.

"Sorry I didn't call or anything," she tried to focus on his face so as to avoid staring at his clothing, "I just wanted to, um, stop by! Friend-like and everything, seeing as we haven't talked in awhile."

It took some real self-restraint on Daisuke's part to not ask _why _she _couldn't_ have called, so, smiling, he invited her in.

"No, thanks. I was actually wondering if we could go someplace, like out to lunch. Well, I don't care where we go, I just really want to talk to you."

An hour and a shave later, the two sat opposite of each other, chit chatting for awhile about nugatory things in a restaurant. The foremost thing on Hikari's mind (and the reason for this meeting) had not yet been spoken aloud, but she was getting there. Right now the conversation had passed onto leadership (who talks about politics with their close friends? Wait…watashi!), and now…

"Do you think you could take over being the digidestined leader completely, Davis?"

He stared at her from over the rim of his cup. 

"Truthfully?"

She nodded.

"No. I've relied upon Tai way too long for that. I think that I'd still need some guidance."

"But…what about extenuating circumstances?"

"Like…?"

"Like if Tai could no longer lead us."

"What, like if he died?"

"Yeah, I guess."

He shrugged. "I'd try my best."

"No, Davis, you'd have to. If Tai were gone…you'd really be the only one who could lead us. You know about things like that; everyone trusts you."

"Only because Tai trusted me first."

"That's not true."

"Sure it is. If Tai hadn't of publicly given over leadership to me -"

"Davis…" she groaned.

"Just hear me out! If he hadn't of, who would have trusted me? Matt? He would've assumed leadership himself after Tai left. Izzy? Jou? They probably would've abandoned the team. No, I think Tai is what holds us together, not me. I can't do that yet."

"You're going to have to, and soon."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Tai's not dying."

"Not physically, I don't think. But…have you gone to see him lately?" Davis shook his head. "He's…different. I saw him this morning and…well, he's frightening me. I feel like I don't know him anymore."

"He looks different?"

"His eyes do, but nothing else. Their golden, like that woman's. Davis, do you think that…"

"She did seem to have a special bond with him."

"But…what will happen to him?"

"How should I know? He'll get overtaken by her spirit? Doesn't seem likely, but things have been weird ever since then."

Hikari sighed. "I guess this means that the team won't be a team anymore soon."

"I said I'll try."

"Then try. See if you can handle it. Defeat enemies single-handedly, look the devil in the eye, withstand mutiny, whatever. Try."

He laughed a little at the mutiny part but nodded and agreed. If Taichi could no longer hold this then it would pass down to himself. An excitement was beginning to boil up just thinking about those looks of trust and admiration a leader is entitled to. Taichi was fading…he was blossoming. Surely this would turn into something great.

_  
_

_Tooku hikari wa sora ni kagayaku,_

_Hitori demo todokanai,_

_Tomodachi no koi wa sore e todoku,_

_Hashi. _

_Sabishii wa jama-suru_

_Demo, anata no mujaki na kokoro riyo-suru_

_Kichigai desu, ne?_

_Tomaranai, hashi._

_Honto no yujo e hankei ichi mairu,_

_Hayaku hashiru,_

_Sore o kokaishite inai._

_Hashi ima, minna-san._

_Shinjiteru, zutto!_

_Hashi hayaku, ima tooku hikari wa ja nai_

_Hashi…_

(Note from the author)

The song at the end! I made it myself, though I doubt half of it is right (that's why their such simple sentences, ne? Mm…SOV format…). If anyone reading this knows japanese, or sees a mistake, tell me! Watashi wa… "beginner" desu. Heh. *Thanks Battle Royal for burning "hashi" into mind* I didn't conjugate some verbs because I'm not so good at that yet…demo…Well, I think that's it. More to come!! Also, I was without spellcheek while writing this, so pardon any errors, kudasai!

The author,

Lauren (a.k.a Saki)


	2. Chapter Two

**…Into Shouts and Screams**

Chapter Two 

**(Sequel to "The Footsteps are Fading")**

"My friends, there are no friends."

- Coco Chanel, French fashion designer (1813-1971)

"Surely I've told you this before. War cannot be trusted to show truth and justice. War is nothing but pain. It arose from pain, it happens in pain, and it can only end in pain. It's the Buddhists' theory coming true; life is nothing but suffering. There are no remedies for that, Davis. There are none what-so-ever. Cut your finger and bleed? That's part of life. Cut your throat and bleed? – I don't see the difference, do you? Only when you inflict pain on another is there a difference. That moon there, that sun there, those stars – they all watch you, telling you that you'll mess up sometime, like they know your destiny better than you do. Are you weak enough to listen to that, or do you rely upon your strength to dismantle your empathy? Let me tell you, some good things are the product of weakness, but they don't out weigh the good things that happen because of strength. Admiration, Davis, that's what I think life is all about. Maybe not admiration from other people, or for other people, but admiration for yourself. That's true power, that's true knowledge. Have you acquired that yet?"

"No," Daisuke mumbled in his sleep, with the drool drying on the side of his mouth. He opened one eye slowly, stared at the hazy ceiling, and then shut it again. Curses, it was no longer Saturday. 

Needles pricked his arm up and down as he pried it from underneath his body. Itai…that arm now reflected every crevice and fold of the sheets he slept upon. He fingered the drool by his lip, brushed some hair away from his eyes, and placed his feet on the ground. Sunday…why did it have to be Sunday? Sure, it was the day every student in the country waited for impatiently, but since he had completed the education system Sunday had lost its shimmer. Where had Saturday gone? The blurred images of Hikari, a restaurant, and talking crawled up into his fuzzy consciousness. Oh…he had promised to go see someone. Um…Taichi-san, ne? Ah…the specious argument that had ensued…

Taichi as of that moment was patiently staring at the clock, watching the numbers tick by and by. Ah, time, it was so unreal. Nevertheless, here he sat, watching watching, waiting waiting until that one perfect moment snapped into view. 8:47…8:48…8:49… What minute was he expecting to come? 8:50…8:51… What if it had already passed? 8:52…7:06…

7…06? Lightening fast thoughts, Taichi, you can do it. Ah, ah, minute passes I'm sure, but the clock remains the same. Seven zero six. An hour has sixty mintes, the hour before this was six, the last digit is six. Oh? Soo desu ne. The devil was in his room now, huh? That wasn't surprising, seeing as it was all turning into a dark hell anyway. This room of darkness has spawned something incredible, ne? He nodded his head. Incredible…perfect, whatever adjective you choose it is right. Close your eyes, breathe deeply, don't think, just know. So all of those "philosophers" were wrong to begin with. All of those religious groups, all of those hangings, judgements, sentences, sentences: all of that was wrong. Okay. Established. Rewriting ideology, reality. Rewriting…rewriting…rewriting…virus. Cannot continue. **Warning** Virus **Warning** Virus. 

His sharp golden eyes eased open, cones and rods working furiously, upside down image flipped right-side up in his mind, and he saw Daisuke standing abreast from himself. Daisuke's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him roughly. 

"Taichi! Taichi-san! Hey, are you okay?"

Words of worry and confusion spoken on his behalf. Ah, thank people for languages. 

"Hm? Yeah, I'm okay."

Words of assurance and deception. On second thought, maybe languages weren't all that great. 

"What's wrong with you? Sitting in this dark room and zonking out?"

"Zonking out? Is that the technical term, Davis?" Names: reference to familiarity.

"Eh, well…" the man rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards the single window in the room. "Anyway, we need to get some sun on you! You look terribly pale." He grasped the blind's opener (is that a word?) and yanked on it. He jerked his arm to a stop.

Thick cardboard sheets outlined and filled in the window, blocking all trace of sunlight. Suddenly Daisuke was very creeped out. Behind him, Taichi made no comment, but his breathing was heavier. The young leader was cemented to the ground he stood upon, frightened beyond sense what would happen if he turned around. Would Taichi attack him, like some sort of transformed beast/vampire/super scary thing? Daisuke shuddered. Oh, why after all these years of "growing up" did he still have thoughts like these? Oh…how did Hikari expect him to become leader if the very man he was to replace scared the hell out him? Oh! To hell with it all! Speak, just say something, break this si…l…en…c…e…

A hand that lacked normal body heat wrapped its fingers delicately around his throat. Taichi's breath condescended upon his neck hairs, weighing them down when they should have been stark upright. The fire blanket of fear descended from mind to body, thought to senses, smothering common sense like the nothing it was. Here, in this state of utter confusion, reason didn't have a place, but memory sure did. Just a touch would remind him always of the pain he had gone through with that woman and Leomon. Yeah, he could remember now how much that woman had hurt him and his pride. He looked up. He reached his hand to the window. He pulled off part of the cardboard. Oh…wasn't surprising what was reflected back to him in that window.

Taichi-san, no, Akuma stood behind him with those golden eyes glaring.

"Kara no dorei, ja nai, Davis-chan? Remember those words. Tell them to those ignorant people who prance around all their short lives like they have a purpose other than to serve. To serve," the mouth whispered in his ear, "don't you realize that I'm on your side? How much longer can your pride take such a thing? How much longer will you accept being a slave? Worse than that, a slave that doesn't know he's a slave. Certainly you and all others want their life to mean _something_, no?"

He struggled against her grip, trying to block out the things she murmured. Then he was trying to remember…remember…His dream this morning. Who had been talking? They had called him Davis, it was a man's voice, speaking of war…about admiration…

Who do I admire?

The reflection of those golden eyes haunted his vision, yanking his thoughts away from what was really important. If only he could stay on track and think, think, Davis, think about who you admire. Taichi?

His brain paused mentally.

That name seemed so gone, so devoid of life, so much like a shell that had been craned into and robbed. There was no soul connected with that name anymore. Had she won, had she actually won? He found it hard to believe that Taichi had given in so easily, because – it was Taichi that he admired. Yet, things like that didn't seem to matter anymore. Taichi – he was only one. How is it said? "In the grand scheme of things"? Yeah, in the grand scheme of things Taichi was only one small thing, only one small memory, one small thought that couldn't hold sway over "the grand scheme". The one thing that was trying to be accomplished right now was…

What?

"Rejection of god," Akuma hissed to his mind.

"Rejection of…god?"

"Yes, the very thought of god, it is restricting to you. Religion – you never really believed in it, did you? It is such a trifle and time-consuming thing. Just think: people spend their whole lives in worship sometimes. Is that any way to celebrate your life? Is that anyway to be true to your instincts, to feel like a human? For all the insightful pondering you humans do you are rather stupid. Like god cares about your sacrifices. Like god cares about your prayers and dreams and hopes. In the same situation, would you care? Tell me, Davis, if you held the power of the universe in your mind, would you care at all about the tiny things living in it? Or would you be searching, searching for something beyond words. A sort of threat. Don't you think you'd get bored after awhile? I think it'd be interesting at first – the worshipers, the churches, the "Sacred Writings" – but, now that I think about it, those things would get old after some time because everthing does. One of those confounded facts that dieties have to live with, you know. Yep, everything gets old once in awhile. Things start to become routine, they start to have substance in your mind. Davis, this is why I was created."

The fingers slipped along his sweaty throat, reaching here and there, sliding to his collar bone and then back up to the soft, vulnerable flesh stretched over his esophagus. It was painful; those fingers burned with a sin that no chanting could contain or even reverse for a second. They were restless, yet they held him fast, restricting his movement – no, his entire thought process. He would try to speak, but his words were dashed away by her fingertips and then drowned by her own malevolent words. The words she spoke…they were total blasphemies to everything he had ever believed in. God was no longer holy, because her very words had knocked that exalted ruler down to the level of humans in his mind. God was mortal now, her words had assured him of that. Mortality surrenders easily. 

"Have you ever heard the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Davis?"

"You read?" he managed to choke out.

"I watch. I watched Mr. Stevenson write that story, and I saw his thoughts during the whole while. He was thinking of me. It was flattering, really, because he had a few great thoughts that are almost worth mentioning, but his more detestable thoughts were always the better. And who else would he be thinking of other than me at those times? Ah, my Davis, God really is child-like. How ironic of him to create beings aware of his existence even when they have never seen him. Oh, I know, you will argue that he was seen; thousands of years ago with Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, but how can anyone be sure? God himself would not remember those names for he has too many things to watch over from the beginning. See this?" She brought a finger up to his eyesight. "It is marked in it's own special way, no? You call them fingerprints, do you not? Yes, well, let me tell you the origin of these 'fingerprints'. They mark you. No, not in an identity sort of way, but in a way so that god can see your fingers and say, 'yes, his life is like this, so he deserves this.' Understand? You are branded already.Your own fingers can remind you of god's mercy. But."

Her fingers fled from his body in a thrice, leaving him weak and disarrayed. She floated across the room to the door and opened it, indicating his departure would be appreciated. He watched all of her antics in the window, an enigma wrapped in a conundrum. Finally, his voice returned.

"You speak as if god doesn't exist, though we clearly saw him at the same instance."

She sighed impatience.

"He does not exist."

"How can you say that? Seeing is believing, plus you have obviously had encounters with him beore."

"Davis,"she sighed again, "honestly you are stupid. God cannot truly exist. The next time you walk down the street, do me a favor and watch people. Watch them walk, talk, buy, sell, laugh – and then think about god. It will strike you then that he has no place in man's society. He is…wishful thinking, more or less. 'I think therefore I am'. Davis. He is thought of, therefore he is."

He nodded, then walked through the doorway and out of that room. Without looking back, he left Taichi's residence. 

"Izzy. Hey, I just needed to talk to someone intelligent."

"Davis…it's eleven at night…don't you sleep?"

"Not lately. Can I come in?"

Koushiro ostentatiously shrugged and swept out his arm in a "welcome!" gesture. Daisuke thanked him and stepped inside.

The apartment was cool and cramped, with bookshelves overflowing onto tables and even the floor with titles like "Bacon's Essays" and "C++ and C Programming". The interior design didn't really have a pattern or even a simple layout, but was just an assortment of furniture bought at random places for the lowest price possible. The living room wasn't exactly livable, because of the three computers set up side by side and their mass of jumbled cords twisting around on the floor like hidden serpents. Nevertheless, the two managed to position themselves in semi-comfortable statures on the couch, facing each other. 

"All right," Koushiro smiled, "let the therapy session began. Exactly when did you start having these…difficulties, shall we say?"

"Shut up, this is important."

"A week ago, oh, how very interesting. Just let me give you these drugs and-"

"Izzy. Really."

"Fine, what, I'm listening."

"I went to Tai's place earlier today."

"Wow," the geek mocked bluntly, but Daisuke ignored it.

"I met someone there. I can't particularly remember how she got there, but when she came, he was gone."

"This is rather confusing, Davis. Perchance could you give me a name?"

"Akuma."

Koushiro forced a dour grin at Daisuke's statement. Why was he not surprised? That woman was mentioned in every conversation that was even remotely about Taichi. There was a fear deep inside of Koushiro, one that had taken root from the time he had first seen Taichi after their adventure. It lurked in the far recesses of his genius, now and then flickering in his blind spot, conversing in the white noise of his life, saying that Taichi was already gone. He couldn't be saved now, but the thing that drove Koushiro insane was the fact that he didn't know what was taking Taichi. In a logical sort of way, one would have automatically pointed fingers at Akuma, but there was something unsettling about that idea that had always restrained him. Something bigger worked on Taichi's small body, forcing him to submit. Something like destiny almost.

"Did she say anything to you?"

Daisuke smiled painfully. "Yeah, a few things. Man, Izzy, I never thought that…to think that…" he threw up his hands. "That girl can sure make you think."

"She _is _the devil, of course she'll say some things that never crossed your mind."

"She said to me, Izzy, that the reason she was created was because Kami got bored. Do you think that's true?"

"Could be. Kami is rather child-like."

Daisuke stared at him. Child-like? Itai. 

"What else did she say?"

"That Kami only exists because we think about him. I don't know if I believe that, because what about atheists? They don't think that Kami exists, but yet there he is."

"They think about him, even if it is only to laugh."

Koushiro watched Daisuke fetch a sigh and lean into the worn couch. Lines drew themselves deeply upon the young man's face and his eyes weren't so bright in the dim light.

"You don't look too good," he observed. Daisuke laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just this whole thing about religion. I honestly never cared about it until this woman showed up and Kami was discovered. Izzy…I just want Tai back, but I think he's gone. The way that his eyes were…and then just – poof! – the woman shows up. Amazing. I never thought that Tai would sell himself to the devil."

"What the hell makes you think he sold himself? Jeez, Davis, the devil is an all powerful force from the beginning of mankind. Do you think that she'd _ask_ to take his soul?"

"Well, it'd be nice of her to give someone a little warning beforehand."

"Right! Well, seeing as that's pretty much impossible, I've got another idea – we destroy Kami."

They locked eyes for a second in the dark room, the unnatural light of the computers shining on Koushiro's face, glinting off his glasses. The computers hummed their little song of indifference as the two men stared at one another. Finally:

"That's insane," Daisuke whispered, falling back into the couch.

"Why? Why should we fear destroying him?"

"Maybe that's not the question, Izzy! It's more like 'how?' and 'what would be accomplished?' Have a little foresight, please!"

"That's the idea!" Koushiro yelled, and slammed his fist onto the table. "We can destroy foresight! We can destroy everything that has ever plagued human minds with just one move! Davis! Can't you picture that world? The one where the only belief is in ourselves and our abilities. The one where we would finally be free from any outside influence. The one-"

"Maybe he's not an outside influence."

"What?"

"Maybe he does come from within. Like…"

Daisuke raised his eyesight to the panting and confused Koushiro. What did that mean? Why did Koushiro breathe, why did he get angry? What could give him that right? and is man really that powerful?

"Like…"

Could one honestly walk alone? Could one be completely self-reliant? How many thoughts are actually our own?

"Like…"

_I think I believe in god._

His body shuddered in shear fear of that sentence. Oh, crap, how dare people make words capable of conveying that thought! Curse them! Curse them! That should never be said…should never be heard…and above all else, that alone should not be persecuted.

"Izzy." Daisuke regained his composure. "You have no right. Though you be one of the brightest and best of us, you have no right to do such a thing. Can't _you_ picture that world where security is solely our problem, where death is final, where birth is the only chance you get. Can you see that?" Tears began to brim in his eyes, shining a thousand lights at him. "Could you imagine? Could you imagine having no one to catch you, no one to always love you, no one who would _be there_, Izzy, be there the times that you think Death is the only one who knows of your existence. Do you really believe in people that much? If you took the restraint of god away from them, what do you think would happen? God, Izzy, even if he is just a thought, is a necessary one. Even if he is cruel and ignorant and child-like, he is necessary. He holds humans back."

"From what!"

"From…that one final truth, I suppose."

"Davis, that is so cliché. There is no final truth. The 'final truth' is ultimately us, sitting here, talking."

"That's not enough for me."

"Then die."

Daisuke was silent.

"If that isn't enough for you, then die," Koushiro repeated, staring hard at the man. "If you love god so much, then die. If you want to be with him so much, then die. Obviously you don't value your own life. Obviously you don't value your own freedom. This is what happened to Tai. Just think about it. You admired him, yet he _left_ you? What could possibly be better than this life and these people? What did Tai find that is so mysterious to the rest of us? Or maybe he didn't find anything, maybe he found nothing, but that was enough for him."

"Shut up."

"That nothing was worth more than your admiration. Humans are alone, Davis. We walk, live, and think alone. Other humans," he picked up a keyboard from the table, "are input devices on our life. They can never really control you though. Did you know that a computer works without a monitor? Monitors are for humans, because we are restricted by eyesight. Think, Davis, if we got rid of the thing that gave us that eyesight, it would be gone. How evolved do you think we'd become after that? We would adapt to our loss of eyesight and develop something purely man-made for once. What an exciting proposition, no?"

"That's…"

"Insane? Is it really?"

"No."


	3. Chapter Three

**…Into Shouts and Screams**

**Chapter Three**

**(Sequel to "The Footsteps are Fading")**

"I want to know God's thoughts...the rest are details."   
- Albert Einstein

_In the beginning…these are the names…the Lord called Moses…the Lord spoke to Moses…these are the words…after the death of Moses…after the death of Joshua…there was a certain man…after the death of Saul…now King David was old…after the death of Ahab…Adam, Seth, Enosh…Solomon the son of David…in the first year…the words of Nehemiah…in the days…there was a man…blessed is the man…the proverbs of Solomon…the words of the preacher…the Song of Songs…the vision of Isaiah…the words of Jeremiah…how lonely sits the city…in the thirtieth year…in the third year…the word of the Lord…the word of the Lord…the words of Amos…the vision of Obadiah…now the word of…the word of the Lord…an oracle concerning…the oracle of god…the word of the Lord…in the second year…in the eighth month…the oracle of the word…_

Here the human race falters. They stumbled to the ground and in their frustration pointed fingers at those who had tripped them. Jesus is our savior – our savior has not yet come. Mary was a pure virgin – the definition of 'virgin' in those days meant that no one knew who the father was. Jesus is god in flesh form – he was no more god than was Mark or David. 

"You've been fooling yourself."

She raised her blond head to him and then turned back away.

"I know."

"You even said it yourself last time but you didn't catch it. How god got bored so he created you."

"I know."

"You're just fulfilling his want if you go through with this."

"It is my destiny."

"No. It's the destiny he had planned out for you."

She shook her head violently and suddenly started to sob.

"I just wanted my own!" she shouted, and then she was kneeling on the ground with her hands to her face.

"Own what?"

"Own destiny! Curse him! Curse him that I should hate him by destiny and be helpless to this feeling! Curse him that he has made me into this beast!"

"You can reverse it."

"And fight the will of god?!" She whipped her face around to him, the fierce gold dust in her eyes sparkling. "What man has the power to do that? What divine man could even accomplish something like that? My dear little Davis: this is tyranny. We are the puppets, the slaves. Can you not feel that in your heart?"

His muddy brown eyes fell to the floor. Yeah, he could feel that. Tyranny at its worst was god, because he could get you to do anything without even speaking. How envious Hitler must have been. 

"How are you going to fulfill this destiny?"

"By killing him, of course. But to do that," her golden head cleaved the air in two as it swung upwards, towards the skies, "to do that I need someone to stand next to me."

How kismet that she had chosen Taichi.

"Do you think that everyone has someone to stand next to them?"

Her eyes were half-slits in the darkened room, shadowed lightly by her quaint eyebrows. A lock of hair tickled the tip of her nose and brushed playfully against her eyelashes. Daisuke was tempted to slap it away and scream at her.

"Yes."

"Will we all find them?"

She sighed loudly, and her shoulders heaved high to accent her apathy.

"Probably not, no, I don't know for sure. I am, after all, only the devil. I am also restricted to destiny. I suppose finding them depends on what destiny has in store for you."

"How do you know when you find them that they are the one?"

A smile stretched across her face. It humored her that he was asking _her_, of all people, these questions.

"Well…there are many ways to tell. But first, let me tell you something about soul mates." She stood up next to him and he suddenly realized that they were about the same height. "Soul mates don't have to be of the opposite sex. You don't have to be homosexual if they just happen to be of your sex. Soul mates also don't have to be human. That sounds weird, I know, because how would you communicate with, say, a gerbil? But it makes being a soul mate all the more special because it's so difficult to find yours. Seven billion people on earth, Davis, and how many animals? What are the odds that your soul mate will live in even the same country as you? Well, scratch that, because odds are irrelevant when considering destiny. Yeah…just remember that it will only happen if destiny wants it to."

"And who controls destiny? God?"

"Well…look at it this way: The destiny to be despised, worshiped, cut down, and praised in all corners of the world at all times of the day – who would choose that as their destiny? Only some self-centered, immature, toddler is what I think. So, it very well could be god choosing the destinies of all, but then again…" she shrugged, "who knows?"

"Do you think god would change a destiny if asked politely?"

His face was too eager for her liking. 

"Get out of my sight. You talk to me as if we're of the same importance."

Everyday seemed to slip slowly from the unctious grip of reality. Was Taichi dead, was he alive, did it really even matter now? But he had lost someone…that he could feel for sure. Someone was gone, but they didn't have a name. Maybe it was that one person he had held open the door for once…or maybe it was his best friend from middle school. Weren't they all the same in the end, though? People…Daisuke's eyes lifted lazily towards their blurred faces…people…did he really love them now? Could he love someone that was tied to destiny? Could he find it in his heart to love someone who wasn't free? He rose slowly, his eyes taking their last drink of the world he had known…and destiny decided right then what would happen to him for the rest of that day. And the day after that. And the day after that, until there would be no more days for Daisuke.

So humans don't really dream alone afterall, Mr. Conrad. Destiny has to be watching, because it needs to plan what future would fit best on the dreamer. 

Destiny…does it affect god as well? The destiny to be despised, worshiped, cut down, and praised in all corners of the world at all times of the day – who chose that destiny for god? And can a face be put to that power, or is it just inanimate?

Daisuke closed his eyes against the flashing sunlight.

Yeah…tyranny at its worst…he could feel that.

The End 


End file.
